Sometimes a person, a name, personifies a whole time of your life
Sometimes, you don’t even realize until you hear their name years and years later and it is a TARDIS moment, you suddenly see people you’d forgotten, hear voices as though they were still speaking, you are scooped back in time and it is magicalIt also destroys you a little.
This is not an interactive blog, but if you have had a similar experience, and if you are moved to share it here - sawubona. I see you.
Comments (8)
The commentator’s voice blared out of the speakers, ‘a fantastic bit of tactical play there from the Runnerdorp number two, this new player is going to be someone to watch . . . ‘
Terry couldn't help but be impressed - because the commentator was Wayne Thornton, and at that time Wayne was not only the best player in South Africa, he was one of the tiny handful of ten-handicap players in the world
And a helluva nice guy.
A year or two later he was behind his club, the best in the country, inviting me to join them at a time when I had been about to sell my horse and stop playing. They subsidized Bally, paid my tournament fees, transported him to tournaments for me, basically made it possible for me to carry on playing when I was in the middle of a divorce and living on a salary that couldn’t possibly cover a sporting horse.
Wayne was waiting as we trotted tiredly off after the first chukka, our icy fingers slipping on the reins. He’d brought Schnapps. I’d never drunk it before, and I’ll never drink it again without remembering that tournament. Six players finished 3 bottles in a 6 chukka game - and we won.
Heartfelt blog.